


Distractions

by oratorio



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: In a galaxy of people who value family, Evfra de Tershaav is alone, dedicating his life to fighting with the Resistance, seeking revenge for his lost loved ones.  When Sara Ryder - the human pathfinder and an alien - finds his long-lost sister in a terrible Kett facility, neglected, broken and pregnant, he doesn't know how to cope.  Fortunately, Sara can see through the barriers that he puts up, and fights to break them down.Trigger warnings for mentions of past non-con and forced pregnancy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as my entry for the Mass Effect Big Bang this year - the first time I have ever participated! It was certainly a challenge as I have so many distractions in my own life, not in the form of a blue Angara unfortunately! But it was lots of fun. I was lucky to be paired with a wonderful artist, Garruskrazykanuck, who has provided a fabulous piece of artwork included in the story below.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

 

If Sara Ryder had written a story about how not to make first contact with a new alien species, it might have gone a bit like this.

 

Crash-landing their ship on a strange planet, scourge-whipped and aflame, was not what she had planned.  She’d gone out alone to face the music, to find herself standing as if facing a firing squad in front of a line of wide-eyed aliens, uniform in figure, with skin of varying shades of violet and blue.  The minutes before her omnitool had made a connection to their native language were among the longest of her life.

 

Now, she hurries to keep up with the ambassador who had greeted her, as she leads the way through the city.  Taking her to meet their Leader, Sara thinks with a giggle, like the biggest cliche in space travel.

 

She soon finds out that this task is no laughing matter.  Evfra de Tershaav is his name, and he is singularly unimpressed by their accidental planetary invasion.  While he doesn’t appear to be threatening to put her to death, or anything overly painful, he is certainly not anywhere near welcoming.  His brusque tone and sour expression could curdle milk, she thinks, if they had any cows on Aya.

 

Despite all that, she can’t help but stare at his eyes.  The angara have beautiful eyes.  His remind her of swirling galactic nebulas, large orbs of steel blue flecked with glimmering shades of indigo and grey.  Even as hooded and sharp as his gaze is, she still can’t help but think how easy it would be to become lost in those eyes.

 

He’s a commanding presence, de Tershaav.  Sara can immediately see why he is the Resistance leader.  It’s not hard to imagine him barking orders in the field, and it’s easy to picture him working into the night on his tactical plans.  She finds him instantly intimidating, and the feeling clearly isn’t mutual.  It isn’t a nice feeling, to be observed the way he is looking at her.  As if she’s a smear of shit that someone has tracked into his nice, sterile headquarters.

 

He certainly isn’t interested in talking to her about the vault on Aya, no matter how much she smiles and flatters. It’s only the intervention of one of his men - Jaal - that brings up the topic of Moshae Sjefa, who might be able to access the long-closed remnant. Of course, even that isn’t simple - the Moshae is vanished, taken by the kett, like so many others.

 

Like Evfra’s family, it turns out.  Only they are a decade gone, far past the point of any dream of rescue.  When he tells her this, offhandedly and just to get her to stop talking, she realises why he holds himself at arm’s length from everyone.  They all die in the end, after all.  Why make things harder by caring?

 

It’s clear that he’s unusual, for an angara.  Jaal, who ends up on the Tempest as some kind of envoy, may look similar - as all angara do - but is Evfra’s opposite in almost every way.  Jaal is open, his emotions worn on the outside of his skin.  He’s thoughtful and calm, and his natural suspicions are clothed in a layer of politeness which makes him almost impossible to dislike.

 

It helps Sara learn more about the angara, having Jaal around.  He’s pleasant company, for the most part, and his people are fascinating.  She listens, rapt, as he tells her about the angaran tendency to be almost painfully honest about their feelings, and about their huge families and the tight bonds that hold them all together.

 

“One day,” he says, with a smile, “perhaps you can meet my family.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

It’s clear that, for Jaal, family is everything.  The pain in his eyes when he speaks about how the kett took his brother is almost overwhelming to see.  Sara sympathises with him, pats his arm - noticing the rope-like muscles which cord under his skin - and thinks about Evfra.  How it must be, in angaran society, to have no family left at all.  It feels a harsh way to live, alone in a world where everyone is together. She resolves to talk to him more in the future, even if the only conversations they ever have are him telling her to leave.

 

Most interactions over the following months tend to take that format.  She perseveres; dropping in on Headquarters each time they land on Aya, ostentatiously for an updated report on the Resistance.  She really just wants to say hello, check in with this prickly man, see if she can start a conversation with him since she has no idea how long it has been since he’s had a proper one.  It doesn’t work. He’s never pleased to see her.

 

She’s always pleased to see him. She doesn’t really stop to think about why.

 

It isn’t until they rescue Moshae Sjefa that she sees what might pass as a smile cross his face.  Maybe even a hint of admiration in his eyes, she thinks, as he tilts his head to one side and regards her quietly.  She is pleased to have defied his expectations of her and, more than that, she feels a flutter in her stomach which she tries to ignore as he finally says, “You saved the Moshae.”

 

“It was a team effort”, she responds, her face heating under his gaze.

 

“Even so. Perhaps I underestimated you.”

 

She ducks her head, allowing his words to wash over her as if they were the greatest poetry.  From anyone else, they would be simple - even grudging - praise.  From him, it felt like so much more.  Not as if she had done all of this to gain his hard-won attention, of course, but even so…

 

That night, she dreams of him and wakes tangled in the bed sheets, sweating and overheated.  She can still hear his voice as it was in the dream, murmuring words of affection low and rough in her ear.  The words are lost to the sandman, but the meaning remains in the ache between her thighs.

 

This isn’t good.

 

It’s the same thought she has weeks later, when she steps into a well-hidden kett facility buried within a maze of caves in the farthest reaches of Voeld.  If she’d thought that Exaltation was as bad as it got, this showed her that they were just scratching the surface of what the kett were capable of.

 

She can feel Jaal beside her, prickling with tension, as they walk slowly into the enormous building, set deep within the rock. They’d had to kill dozens of kett to get this far, and it feels like the most protected of all of the kett buildings they’d found.  She knows it isn’t a good sign.

 

The first angara they find are female, chained to the wall in bare cells lit only with ultraviolet spotlights.  Just enough to keep them alive, but they are not in anything like a healthy condition.  Their skin is washed-out, formerly vibrant violets and aquamarine faded to a shade which reminds Sara of death.  Barely conscious, they gaze up at her through eyes shaded with milky cataracts, not even the prospect of rescue bringing any relief.  She has no idea how long they have been here.

 

Jaal pulls in a sharp breath beside her.  “Look, Ryder.  Some of these women, they are… with child.”

 

“Christ.”

 

Bellies distended, she had thought that they might be suffering from malnutrition, but Jaal knows angaran bodies better.  She doesn’t know how it’s even possible that they could bear a pregnancy, given the condition they are in, but it seems that several of them are close to birthing nonetheless.  Sara shivers and turns her eyes to Jaal.

 

“What would have happened to them if we hadn’t found them?”

 

Jaal’s face is like carved stone.  “You think that many haven’t already died here?  Haven’t already birthed children for the Kett to Exalt? We are already too late.”

 

Nausea burns through her throat as she swallows and sweeps her eyes over the angara once more.  “We aren’t too late for these people.”

 

Jaal lets out a bitter laugh.  “Do you really believe that?”

 

No.  She doesn’t.  She knows that these women are changed forever by their captivity here, by whatever horror they have had to endure at the hands of the kett.  She can’t put it into words, though, grasping hopelessly at naive optimism.

 

“We have to do what we can, at least.”

 

“With that, I agree.”

 

There are more angara further in.  At least a hundred female, and a dozen male.  One of the men is conscious enough to whisper words that make her blood run cold.

 

“They make us breed here,” he says, his voice a thin, fragile thing.  “When we are no good for that, they take us away.”

 

“Where are the children?”  Jaal is incandescent; she has never known him so furious.

 

“I don’t know. The kett take them.”

 

“How long have you been here?”  Sara asks, dreading the answer.

 

“I lose track,” the angara says, weakly.  “Some of us for many years, I think.”

 

Sara imagines living like this for years, locked away in the gloom, barely kept alive by the thin light of the ultra-violet torches.  Impregnated over and over, babies removed, the cycle starting again.  Hot tears prickle at the edges of her eyes and her hands clench into tight fists.

 

“This stops now.”  Her voice is steadier than she feels, strident in the dank chill of the cave.  “We need help to extract these people, then we raze this place to the ground.”

 

Jaal makes a low growling noise beside her, and she can feel electricity thrumming from his skin as she calls for assistance on her omnitool.

 

It takes fourteen shuttles to clear the facility, and many hours.  Each angara has to be carried to the mouth of the caves, none of them able to walk, their muscles wasted and their eyes unfocused.  A handful of dropships try to interrupt the clearance, but fortunately the kett within them are easily despatched by Jaal and Drack, with Sara providing clever cover with her sniper rifle from higher ground.

 

“Where will the angara go?” Sara asks Jaal, whose granite expression hasn’t softened an inch.  He reminds her of Evfra in this moment, in his blind and all-encompassing anger.  She can hardly blame him.

 

“We will try to make space on Aya,” he says, frowning.  “Our medical facilities are small, but it’s where we have the most advanced knowledge. These people will need a lot of help.”

 

“Not to mention their families, kid.”

 

Sara startles as she realises that Drack is right.  All of these angara will have families who are missing them, who doubtless thought them lost. Just as those they rescued from the Exaltation facility were able to return home, so can these people.  Though, she thinks, as husks of the men and women they once were.  She wonders, briefly, if she would prefer to think of her brother as dead rather than having to live with this.  She knows without a shadow of a doubt that she would take death every time, if these horrors ever came to her.

 

She doesn’t sleep that night, thinking only of the angara, trying to blot out the thoughts of what they must have suffered over the years.


	2. Chapter 2

The Tempest arrives on Aya in the midst of the shuttle landings, angara already on stretchers and being ferried to the medical centre. Most of Aya seems to be huddled around the docking bay, muscled necks craning, eyes even wider than usual as everyone tries to catch a glimpse of the survivors. Paaran Shie has ordered them to be conveyed under hoods, so that families don’t cause a stir should they recognise a long-lost loved one. Time for that later, during recovery.

Out of habit, Sara wanders to the Resistance headquarters, wanting to update Evfra on what they have found. She finds him pacing, agitated.

“It gets worse,” he says, almost spitting out the words. “Our people, brutalised, altered beyond recognition, forced to become and create our enemy. Is there no end to this?”

“If there is to be an end to it,” she says simply, “we will do all we can to help it happen.”

“This is why I fight.” Evfra doesn’t stop pacing, doesn’t seem to have even heard her speak. “This is why I would die for the cause. Better to die by your enemy’s gunfire than become them.”

Sara takes a step closer to him. “Your people were saved today. We must have hope.”

“Saved?” He turns and stares as if noticing her for the first time, a sneer snaking across his features, pulling at his scar. “You call that saved? Condemned, is what it is. Ruined.”

“You would rather I had left them there?”

He lets out a breath, closes his eyes. “Of course not. I…”

His voice trails off and he leans forward against his desk, bracing his weight on his hands. He sighs again, deep and rattling, and his eyes peel open to gaze directly into hers. Sara blinks at the pain she sees in them.

“I apologise,” he says, voice low. “I should not take this out on you. You understand, it is hard to see what is happening to my people. To see those we could have saved, years ago, if only we had looked in the right places.”

“This isn’t on you, Evfra.” Sara is stung by the way his face crumples in on itself, how his body seems to sag with exhaustion. “You’ve given everything to this. More than most.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snarls, pulling himself back to his full height. Sara takes a step back, her stomach churning. She’d never seen him vulnerable before, and he knows it. The last thing he needs is to be thought of as weak.

“I don’t pity you,” she says, shaking her head. “Why would I? I’m clearly not wanted here, so I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye, Evfra.”

He doesn’t say a word as she turns on her heel and walks away.

She heads straight to the medical centre, to see if she can help in any way, haunted by the memories of the facility, the way the angara stared at her with sightless eyes, silently begging her for - what? Release, rescue, death? They don’t seem much better now, many of them drugged into sleep, rigged up to drips and monitors. The room is crowded, and the medical staff have set up makeshift beds across the floor so that it’s almost impossible to move.

“How are they doing?” she asks the doctor in charge.

“As well as can be expected,” he says, his expression serious. “There’s some physical damage, cell deterioration from lack of light. Pressure sores from being confined. Nothing that won’t heal. Seventeen pregnant females, various due dates. The babies seem healthy enough. The trauma though… that’s another matter.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you,” the man says, inclining his head. “You may help with bathing the sores, changing the bandages. Just ask Kaaran over there to show you what needs doing.” He pauses and smiles. “I am sorry to say I doubted you when you first arrived here. I am glad you have proved me wrong.”

She’s on her knees, a fabric pad soaked in antiseptic in her hand, when she hears Evfra’s voice behind her. Turning, she sees him standing in the doorway, jaw set, eyes flinty.

“I’ve come to see the damage,” he is saying to the doctor, who is fluttering around nervously. “Show me now what the kett have done to us.”

He barely flinches when he sees her crouched on the floor at his feet, though she swears his eyes seem to widen briefly. 

“Hello again, Evfra,” she says, craning her neck to look at him. “We must stop meeting like this.”

“What are you doing here?”

Sara rolls her eyes. “What does it look like?”

“The Pathfinder is helping tend to our patients,” the doctor says, smiling warmly at her. “She has been of great assistance.”

“Hmph.” Evfra turns away, dismissing her as he begins to step carefully around the room. She hears him suck in a hard breath as he takes in the sight of the angara laid out, skin mottled and faded, eyes closed. He curses in Shelesh, so softly that the translator doesn’t pick up. It does, however, pick up his next words, which explode in a bursting torrent.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, Taraana.”

Even without the translator, the meaning would be clear from the terrible, broken desperation in his voice. Sara looks up instantly, feeling her heart jump to her throat as she watches Evfra sink to the floor beside one of the angara - a heavily-pregnant female. To her horror, he begins to make strangled crooning noises, his hand clutching at hers, his body rocking back and forth.

“Taraana,” he says again, taking shallow gulps of air. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sara hesitates, swallows hard. “Evfra?”

His back stiffens and he ceases rocking. “Leave me. Go.”

For the second time today, she acquiesces, unfolding herself from the floor and stepping away from the raw grief, the terrible pain that is rolling from the Resistance leader in waves.

She finds Jaal near the Tavetaan.

“Jaal,” she says, hesitantly. “Who is Taraana?”

She has his immediate attention, pinning her with his gaze. His eyes are glittering, and he seems shocked. “Why do you ask?”

“I think she’s in the medical centre. Evfra’s with her.”

“Shit.” Jaal runs a hand across his eyes and inhales a sharp breath. “She’s his sister.”

“But I thought…”

“She went missing nearly ten years ago, with the rest of his family.”

“Oh, God.”

Sara tries to imagine a decade of living in that facility, breeding new angara for the kett to raise for future Exaltation, but there simply isn’t enough space in her head to understand such depths of trauma and suffering.

*****

She doesn’t sleep well that night, thinking about the angara in the medical centre, and about Evfra. She wonders where he is now, whether he’s alone. It would be hard enough, she thinks, having such a shock to cope with when you are surrounded by people who love you. But nobody loves Evfra, and she feels a twinge in her stomach at the thought of him being left to process the incredible yet awful news about Taraana, all on his own.

Even the most insufferable of people wouldn’t deserve that.

The next day, with this in mind, she goes to the Resistance Headquarters, seeking him out. She half expects him not to be there, thinks that he’s bound to be with the doctors, or taking time out. But no, he’s at his desk, poring over datapads as usual.

“Evfra.”

He looks up. Sara thinks that he looks as bad as she must do, and it’s clear that she’s not the only one who hasn’t been sleeping. The skin around Evfra’s eyes looks pale and pouchy, and there are lines around his mouth where his jaw is set so solidly.

“What do you want?”

Sara takes a deep breath. “I wanted to see how you were. After yesterday. And how your sister is.”

Evfra scowls. “My sister is none of your business, and neither am I.”

“I just wondered…”

“Well, you can stop wondering. Unless you’re offering to help on Havarl or Voeld, you can leave right now.”

Sara shakes her head. “Evfra. You know the Initiative is happy to help with the kett. We want to prove to you that we are allies. So I’m happy to help wherever that’s needed, but you have to trust us. You need to know we do care about you. I’m not asking how you are just out of politeness, you know. That must have been really hard on you, finding your sister like that.”

Evfra’s sneer deepens, his scar twisting. “I said it’s none of your business. If you help, I am thankful for it, but that’s as far as it goes.”

Sara sighs. “Receiving loud and clear. I apologise for intruding. I was just worried about you.”

“If you think I care about that, you are mistaken.” Evfra shakes his head and focuses on his datapad. “Now, if there’s nothing else…?”

“No. We’re leaving for Voeld tomorrow, so we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Angara do not have hair,” Evfra says, frowning.

“It’s an idiom.”

He snorts. “Makes no sense.”

Sara wonders if she will ever be able to say anything right, as far as Evfra is concerned. She suspects not.

She bids him goodbye, and he doesn’t even look up as she leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

About six weeks pass before they return to Aya. Sara is relieved to see the place, sick of Voeld. Frostbite, bullet wounds and lack of decent food do not make for a happy mood, and everyone is feeling grumpy and in need of a rest.

First, though, she needs to check on the rescued angara. Not a moment had passed since she’d left them that they hadn’t been on her mind.

Things had changed in the past weeks. When she arrives at the medical centre, she finds it quieter and calmer. There are no longer mattresses strewn about the floor, and the staff look less harried and more focused. She approaches one of the doctors hesitantly.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if I could have an update on how the rescued angara are getting on?”

The angaran doctor is about to cut her off when she realises who she’s talking to. “Oh, Pathfinder! Thank you for saving our people. Of course, an update.” She rifles through the paperwork on the desk in front of her. “Most of our people are awake now, and on the mend. There is no real lasting physical damage noted - mainly dehydration, poor nutrition and lack of light. These are all things which will be easy to repair, in time. The psychological scars, though… We have specially trained therapists working with them.”

Sara closes her eyes. “I can imagine.”

“It is hard. Most of the survivors are having nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. It may take many months or even years for them to be able to have what we might think of as a normal life. Some of them may never get to that point.”

Sara hesitates, then asks. “Do any of them talk about their rescue? Are they glad?”

The doctor looks at her sympathetically. “They know that you and Jaal saved them. They’re grateful to no longer be in that place. Some of them are not so grateful to be alive, but they are traumatised. They at least have a chance now. You did the right thing, Pathfinder.”

“What about Taraana?” Sara takes a deep breath and averts her gaze from the doctor’s curious look.

“Evfra de Tershaav’s sister?” The doctor grimaces. “She gave birth to her daughter two weeks ago. She is staying with Moshae Sjefa.”

“She isn’t with her brother?”

“Nobody knows where he is, Pathfinder. He left suddenly after the babe was born. I don’t think anyone’s been in contact with him since.”

“He’s left the Resistance?”

The shock must have been clear on Sara’s face, because the doctor’s expression shifts into concern and surprise.

“He is still their leader. His captains do not seem too worried. All is in hand, I am sure. Perhaps he just needed some space.”

Sara tries to imagine what level of upset would cause the stoic angara to leave his post and the Resistance in the hands of a subordinate. She frowns.

“Does anyone know where he is?”

“The Moshae might.” The doctor shakes her head. “It is probably not wise to ask. Evfra de Tershaav is not the sort of person who would appreciate being found when he does not want to be.”

Sara knows she is right, but she can’t get the man out of her mind. She lasts three days before she pays a visit to Moshae Sjefa.

The Moshae’s home is a simple hut set at the rear of the township. The surrounding gardens are in full bloom - admittedly, mostly due to Vehn Terev’s efforts - and the woman is sitting outside on a low stone bench enjoying the scent of the flowers.

“Pathfinder.” The Moshae stands to greet Sara with a gentle smile. “It is good to see you.”

“And you, Moshae.” Sara decides not to beat around the bush. “I’m looking for Evfra. I understand he’s neglecting his duties, and that’s not like him. I’m worried.”

The Moshae regards Sara intently. “He is not your concern, Pathfinder. I don’t mean that to be rude, but the Resistance is fine. There is nothing for you to do.”

Sara sighs. “It’s not so much about the Resistance. I’m just worried.”

She realises the truth of it as she says it. She knows she’s been in denial about the time she has spent thinking about Evfra recently, wondering how he was coping with the shattering news about his sister and the others, and about the origins of the Kett. It was so much for any angara to deal with, let alone one who had little in the way of love or support from others. Sure, he was a hard man to like, let alone love, but that didn’t make it any more palatable to think about what he was going through.

The Moshae’s lips part and her eyes soften. “Ah. You care for him.”

It seems that the angara are not the only ones who cannot hide their emotions, Sara thinks. Her shoulders slump and she stares at her feet and shrugs.

“I suppose I do.”

Moshae Sjefa gives a low chuckle and shakes her head. “Perhaps you humans see more than we give you credit for.”

“Will you tell me where he is?”

“He won’t thank you for disturbing him. He gets little peace as it is, Pathfinder.”

“I hate the thought of him dealing with all this by himself, Moshae. If I can help at all, I will.”

“This is his choice. He will not want your help.”

“Let him tell me that? I’d like to try.”

The Moshae sighs and shakes her head in resignation. “You are persistent. And, despite everything, Evfra does seem to respect you, in his way. Perhaps he could use a friend, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“I will do my best.”

Moshae Sjefa smiles. “You always do, Pathfinder. That much I know. He’s staying in Thaldyr’s old hut, on Havarl. Please, if he asks, tell him that Taraana is recovering, and is asking for him. Her daughter Muni is doing well.”

“I will. Thank you, Moshae.”

*****

Her crew members are curious about why Sara wants to venture into the wilds of Havarl alone, and Jaal valiantly attempts to insist on accompanying her.

“It is dangerous out there, Sara. Even with the kett reduced in numbers, and the Roekaar weakened, there are still many wild animals lurking in the undergrowth.”

She pats his arm. “It’s okay, Jaal. I’m not going far, and I know the way. I’m sure that you would rather take some time with your family.”

“But how can I relax if you’re not safe?”

Sara laughs. “When am I ever safe? Trust me, Jaal, this is something I need to do by myself.”

“On Havarl? What business could a human have here?”

“I’m the Pathfinder, remember. I have contacts, things to do. And this one happens to need just me.”

“I’m not at all happy about this, Sara.”

Liam and Cora, listening in, echo his concerns with low mumbles of agreement.

“Look, don’t make me pull rank here. I’m going, and that’s the end of it. SAM will track me and let you know if I’m in any danger, won’t you, SAM?.”

“Yes, Pathfinder.” SAM’s disembodied voice sounds firm, but his confident tone doesn’t seem to be shared with anyone else.

Jaal shifts on the spot and shakes his head. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you go, but know that we will be on hand to come after you the moment it’s needed.”

Fortunately, his fears did not come to pass, and Sara manages to negotiate her way through the shrubbery without drawing the notice of any of the more dangerous species native to the planet. She hadn’t even felt scared until now, as she stands on the stoop of the little hut that used to belong to Thaldyr. It was simple, hidden away in a quiet crevasse and surrounded by the beautiful colours of the native flowers of Havarl. Sara doesn’t notice the beauty, her heart thumping against her ribs and her breath stuck in her throat as she raises a fist to bang on the door.

She has to knock several times before she hears the shuffle of feet from inside the hut, and a low grumbling sound. The door doesn’t open. She knocks again. 

“Who’s there?”

Evfra’s voice is unmistakeable, and as usual he doesn’t sound happy.

“It’s me. Sara Ryder. The human pathfinder.”

She hears Evfra sigh loudly and curse. The door stays firmly closed. Sara leans in closer to the hut.

“Can I come in? There’s creatures out here.”

“Why are you here?”

“Nobody’s seen you for weeks, Evfra. I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

He makes another low huffing noise. “If I needed anything, I would get it. What I don’t need is you here, disturbing me.”

“Please open the door, Evfra. I’d like to talk to you.”

His tone is strident. “No. Go away.”

Sara takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to leave until you speak to me.”

He curses again and raises his voice. “I never asked for you to come here, Pathfinder. I’m not opening this door, so unless you want a long wait in a damp forest, I suggest you go back to your ship and leave me alone. That is all I have to say to you.”

“Don’t you want to know how your sister is doing, your niece?”

There’s a long pause, and when his response comes it’s so quiet she has to strain to hear him. 

“Go away.”

Sara sinks down on to the stoop, hugging her knees. She’s come too far to just give up, and it’s clear from the cracks in his voice that Evfra isn’t in a good way. He’s spent years fighting for his people, and she vows not to leave until she’s fought properly for him now.

She’s just not sure how to do it.

The challyrion gives her a rather unwanted answer to that conundrum. She hears the low guttural growl before she sees it, cloaked in the clearing, stalking towards her. Sara gets to her feet and draws her pistol. She steps back towards the door of the hut, and bangs on it again.

“Evfra. There’s a challyrion out here, and I’m on my own. Open the door, please.”

“You should have thought about that before you came out here.”

Sara fires a couple of shots. The creature uncloaks as a bullet catches it on the shoulder. It roars.

“Evfra, please.”

The door swings open. Evfra stands there, his face like thunder. “Get in, then.”

Sara hurries through the door and slams it shut behind her as the animal flings itself against the wood. They stand in silence and listen to the thumps and growls of the creature before it finally gives up and wanders away.

Evfra sneers at her. “There. It’s gone. You can leave now.”

“Talk to me.” Sara looks up at him beseechingly. “Just a few minutes. People are worried about you.”

He snorts. “That’s a lie.”

“I’m worried about you.” She takes a few hesitant steps towards him.

Evfra frowns and turns his back on her. “Why do you insist on bothering me, human?”

“Nobody knows where you’ve been. I wanted to check that you were okay.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“What about the Resistance?”

“It’s all being taken care of. And, as I said, that’s none of your business. Are you deaf or are you just stupid?”

Sara deflates, her shoulders sagging. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

Evfra snorts and turns to face her. “Ryder. It’s not that I don’t appreciate that you’ve tried, but I wanted to be left alone.”

“But your sister has just had her baby. Shouldn’t you be with her?”

Any softening of his attitude quickly vanishes as Evfra visibly prickles. “Why do you suppose I left? Have you ever considered that I might not want to be face to face with that little bastard, that offspring of force and imprisonment? It may as well have become Kett, for all I care. It isn’t my family.”

Sara takes a step back, her eyes widening. “She’s a child, Evfra. Your sister’s child. Your niece.”

“She is nothing of the sort,” Evfra snarls.

“You can’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me at all, then.” Evfra narrows his eyes, his lips thinning. “Now you’ve heard what you came for, get out.”

Sara feels a burning heat in her chest, her fists clenching so hard that her fingernails dig into her palms. “Is it because Muni reminds you that it was me who saved them, not you?”

She expected Evfra to respond with his usual fury, expected a sneer and a spitting of words. Instead, his expression is impassive, his voice quiet.

“Just go, Pathfinder. I never asked you to come here. I know that doesn’t usually stop you, but if you are as worried as you say, you’ll do as I’ve asked. I just need some time.”

Sara doesn’t know what else to do but to obey his request. She feels despondent as she hurries back to the Tempest, as if she had made things so much worse. She should have listened to the Moshae, she thinks, as she bats away questions from her crew about her mission. She is so exhausted that her eyes feel like gritty marbles, yet she can’t sleep for thinking about Evfra’s harsh words. Words she’d pushed him into saying. She vows to apologise, just as soon as things calm down.

It’s another three weeks before news comes from Aya that Evfra has returned to his station in the Resistance. Jaal opens the email, and his sigh of relief is audible. For all his faults, Evfra is a strong leader and the Resistance is weakened without his presence.


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later, she asks Kallo to plot a course for Aya, under the pretence that they need to pick up some ingredients for Suvi to make some snacks for the movie night that Liam was planning. Kallo rolls his eyes at having to make a special trip for a few plants, but sets the Tempest in that direction anyway. The plants are easy enough to find and she stashes them carefully in her bag, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the swampy smell of them. Her hands are shaking, and she frowns, squeezing them into fists to try to control her nerves.

It’s just Evfra. It’s just the Resistance Headquarters, she tells herself. You’ve been there lots of times before.

She has, of course, but he has never given her the look he flashes at her now as she stands before him, wringing her hands.

“Ryder.”

“Hello, Evfra. It’s good to see you back.”

Her voice wobbles slightly and she coughs in an attempt to cover it up. He narrows his eyes and regards her carefully.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to pick up some tavarv from the market. My science officer wanted some to make some movie snacks.”

Evfra’s nostrils flare slightly. “Hmph. I thought I could smell that stuff.”

Sara blushes. “It’s a bit strong. Sorry.”

Evfra waves a hand dismissively. “No matter. That doesn’t explain why you are here, in this room.”

“I…” Sara breaks off, glances down at her fingers which are twisting in on themselves. She swallows hard and presses on. “I wanted to apologise. For turning up on Havarl. For trying to force you into talking when you weren’t ready.”

“It wasn’t about being ready,” Evfra says brusquely. “It was not wanting to.”

“Yes, sorry,” Sara says, blushing. “I’m sorry for that. I should never have come, and I should have listened to you.”

Evfra makes a hmmph noise and nods his head once. “Yes. You should.”

She steels herself, inhaling a sharp breath before looking up to meet his gaze. “I was worried, though, you know. And you seemed so upset. The things you were saying… did you really mean it?”

Evfra stares at her, his eyes silvered in the half-light of the room. For a moment, she sees his stoic expression crack, his mouth falling open, gaze softening.

“You do not give up, human.”

“I won’t. And you need to stop calling me ‘human’, angara.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s disrespectful, for a start.”

“I meant, why won’t you give up? Why do you persist in speaking?”

Sara sighs. “Evfra. No matter how hard you try, you can’t make me dislike you. You’re someone I respect, and I’ve come to care about what happens to you. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but that’s how it is.”

Evfra frowns, a natural expression on his sombre face. His scars bunch and curl as his mouth twists in a bitter moue.

“I don’t understand. Why would you care? Surely your people come first, just as mine do to me.”

“Are we so different, your people and mine?”

Evfra scratches his cheek. “You aliens are all different.”

“I’m not talking about how we look. We all want the same thing, don’t we?”

He laughs bitterly. “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“You and I both want the kett dead, I accept that. But what I want is for our worlds to be angaran again. I never asked for all your aliens to impose upon us. I would like you all to go back to where you came from.”

“Right, so we help you out with the kett, rescue hundreds of your people, then you want us to bugger off back to a galaxy that might not even exist any more?”

“I’m not sending you back. I’m simply saying that I wish you’d never come here.”

“Oh, that’s okay then.”

Sara feels tears pushing at the corners of her eyes and swipes at them angrily. She wonders if her words earlier - you can’t make me dislike you - have been seen as a challenge.

Evfra sighs deeply. “Look, how would you feel in my situation? I’m focusing on my people, as you do. It’s nothing personal.”

“If we’d never come here, you know you wouldn’t have your sister now.”

It’s a low blow, she knows, but it works. Evfra goes very still, as if his muscles had been dipped in concrete. His eyes flicker from side to side and he opens and closes his mouth as if he doesn’t know quite what to say.

“You know it’s true, Evfra. I’m not asking for your thanks, I’m just asking for some respect for what we’ve done.”

“I…”

To Sara’s horror, Evfra’s eyes shutter and his head drops, and he turns away from her to face the window. His voice, when it comes, is low and muffled.

“I know it’s something I should thank you for, but I do not know if I mean it.”

Sara stands silently, watching him. Waiting. Eventually he sighs and runs a hand over his head.

“I mourned her, I grieved for her and for the others. I accepted their passing, and I fought for revenge, to stop it happening to others. Life was easy enough when I had nothing but my anger to fuel me. Now, I have to find more in my heart for her, and yet she is not the sister I remember. She is more changed than I ever was, and I don’t know what to do.”

Sara is struck speechless by the raw emotion in Evfra’s voice, far more than the usual gruff tones he used with everyone. She had never seen this side of him before, no matter how angaran it may be. All she can do is to walk over to stand by his side, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

He looks down at her, the fury and tightness gone from his expression. He looks tired, blank, his lips loose and his skin pale.

“She is what you have,” Sara says, her voice steady and firm. “She is not all you have.”

Evfra makes a noise that sounds like a balloon letting out air. “I have the Resistance.” His voice sounds strangely bitter, for a man who has dedicated so many years to the cause.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sara swallows down the lump in her throat and lays her hand on his arm. He doesn’t flinch, but neither does he respond. He just keeps on looking out of the window, into the distance.

“Then what did you mean?”

“You have the Initiative on your side. We’ll help you as much as we can. And… and you have me, for what it’s worth. I’m here for you, Evfra. In whatever way you want me to be.”

A feeling like cold water sweeps over her as she speaks. She cannot quite believe she has said those words to him, but she finds she can’t take them back. She catches her breath and stands on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to respond. He is silent for a long time.

Eventually, he tilts his head and looks at her from the corner of his eye. “Whatever way I want?”

“Mm.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head. “That seems like a very open statement.”

“It was, a bit, wasn’t it.”

“Do you mean that you will take orders from me, for missions I may need help with?”

Sara chuckles. He is giving her an out.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, “though maybe taking orders isn’t the right phrase. Co-operating to achieve the right outcome, perhaps that sounds better.”

“I prefer to use taking orders.”

Sara’s cheeks heat as Evfra smirks openly at her, and her next words come out in a rush before she can control them.

“Do you have any particular orders in mind, then?”

Evfra’s eyes are dark as he gazes at her for quiet moments. “Actually, yes. If you’re heading back out to Havarl, I had a message from the leader of one of my platoons that they need some parts to service their generator. I’ll write you a list and send you over their co-ordinates.”

Sara nods her head, swallowing to settle the twisting disappointment in her stomach. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Evfra turns away, dismissing her. She turns to leave, and is at the door when she hears his voice again, so low that she almost misses it. “And meet me at the Tavetaan at dusk. It would be… nice, to have someone to have a drink with. If that isn’t overstepping the mark.”

Sara pauses, her hand on the doorframe. She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder. He’s still facing away from her, back ramrod-straight, staring at the datapad in his hand.

“It isn’t.”

“Good,” he says again, and nods his head once. Her head is spinning as she takes her leave, caught between excitement and terror.

****

 

Evfra is already at the Tavetaan when she arrives, sitting at a table with two tumblers and a bottle in front of him.

“Angaran wine,” he explains, as she sits opposite him. “No idea if you aliens can drink it. One way to find out.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Buying a girl potential poison isn’t the greatest way to start a conversation, Evfra. But lucky for you, I’ve had your wine before and I’m still here. So, pour away.”

“You’ve tried it before?”

Sara laughs. “Evfra, I’ve been to Aya many times, and I’ve been here before with my crew for drinks. It’s not all work, you know. I’m not that dull.”

Evfra frowns. “But I am, apparently.”

“Ah… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But it’s true nonetheless.” Evfra sighs and looks into his tumbler, before taking a long gulp of the wine. “I can’t remember the last time I came here, or did anything other than work and rest.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“And you’re a busy woman, Pathfinder. Yet that doesn’t seem to stop you from enjoying yourself.”

“I’m just a sociable person, Evfra,” she says. “Everyone’s different.”

Evfra chuckles, but his expression remains sour. “You think I’m not.”

“Sorry?”

“You think I’m not a sociable person.”

Sara regards him solemnly. “You said yourself, you don’t come here. You’ve never seemed to be the people type. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I used to be, you know.”

Sara isn’t sure what to say, so she sits and waits for him to explain.

He sighs. “I never used to be like this. Angara generally are not. I was a typical young man, plenty of friends and girlfriends, big family around me. We’d play games and prank each other. I was always out drinking, or sparring. Was a good fighter even then, but back then it was just for fun. I never thought I’d be a soldier. I wanted to run my own restaurant, when I was a kid.”

“That’s a long way from being the Resistance leader.”

“I was young, innocent. Didn’t last. I’d been out hunting, the day it happened. Caught myself some big lizard, feeling pretty proud of myself. Then when I get home, well. Not really a home to go back to any more. Everyone gone, our hut on fire. And that was that.”

He toys with his glass, spinning it in his large hand as he stares into the wine.

“It’s natural to want revenge for that,” Sara says. “I’d have been the same.”

“I gave up on them, though,” Evfra says, not looking up. “I assumed they were all dead and gone. I wanted to kill, not search. I should have tried harder. What if… what if we’d found them sooner? Who else might have been saved?”

“Evfra.” Sara touches his hand lightly with her fingertips, just a light brush but enough to feel a zip of electricity catch against her skin. “You have done everything you possibly could. There was nothing more you could’ve done. Taraana knows that, too.”

“How can she forgive me?” Evfra’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, as if he’d been in a fight. “How can she ever forgive me?”

“You’re her brother,” Sara says softly. “You and Muni are all she has left, and she loves you. She knows that none of this is your fault.”

“I should have looked for her.” Evfra’s voice is strident, carrying through the crowds so that most people in the bar turn to look at them. “Years I’ve spent organising, training, plotting. I’ve killed more kett than I can count, and plenty of our own blood on my hands too. It’s all I’ve ever done, but I should have been out there looking. Instead, I was fighting while she… she…”

His voice trails away into something small and fragile, the tone nothing like Sara has heard from him before. His hand grips his glass so tightly that his knuckles are pale, and she sees his throat working and his shoulders beginning to shake.

Sara gets to her feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Unless you want everyone in Aya to talk about how the Resistance leader lost it in the Tavetaan.”

“They’ll already be talking. I’ve seen the way most of them have been looking over at us,” Evfra grumbles, but he doesn’t argue with her suggestion, following her rather meekly out of the bar.

They’re walking through the marketplace when she asks him the question that’s been on the tip of her tongue since they left the bar, bursting to come out.

“Does it bother you, that people have seen us together? That they might gossip?”

Evfra shrugs and pulls a face. “Let them. I don’t care.”

“I thought you’d hate it.”

“I have bigger things to worry about than idle gossip. Besides, you might be human, but you saved Taraana and everyone knows it. I have no reason to dislike you.”

“You’re not worried about what else they might say?”

“I’m having a drink with a friend, that’s all there is to it.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Evfra makes a hmm-hmm noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t have friends as such, but you are close enough. Your company is pleasant.”

Sara feels a fluttering sensation in her chest and she has to swallow to clear her throat. “That feels like a pretty big compliment from you, Evfra, especially as I’m an alien.”

“You aren’t so different, really. There are many ways in which angara and humans are similar.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Sara says with a laugh. “What sort of ways?”

“The obvious,” Evfra says. “Same general shape, though your people are small and fragile in comparison. We eat and sleep in similar patterns, we all have interest in science and developing new things. We write stories and music, just like you do. Your people are the first species I have met who also mate for pleasure, rather than procreation. And that seems to work the same way, too.”

Sara glances over at him. “How do you know?”

Evfra grunts. “Read about it, of course. What sort of leader would I be if I didn’t find out all I could about the new species which landed on our world?”

“Any gaps in your knowledge that you need me to fill?”

“There are always more things to be learned,” he says. They are approaching the docking bay now, and she finds that she doesn’t want to board the Tempest and end the evening already.

“I’m pretty sure that we have angaran liquor on the ship,” she says, trying to keep her tone casual. “You could ask me twenty questions while we drink, if you like.”

Evfra frowns. “I’m not sure I could think of twenty, just like that.”

“It’s a saying. Just ask me whatever you want.”

He nods. “Fine. One more drink, then.”


	5. Chapter 5

They’re in her quarters, slouched on the sofas, Evfra taking up nearly the entire cushion as Sara perches on the edge. He’s asked her questions about the music she’s playing on the little receiver, about what she used to do when she was a child, how she was educated and what it was like to have such a small family. Not once had his eyes left her face as he listened to her answers, as if he was a sponge soaking up the history of her.

“So now it’s just me and Scott,” she finishes, her vision starting to shimmer with tears. “If he survives. He’d better survive.”

“There is nobody else… special?” Evfra is regarding her with his head slightly tilted, his tongue swiping out to moisten his lips.

She shakes her head. “No, only my crew, but that’s a professional thing, you know?”

“I know.”

He moistens his lips again and continues. “So in your Milky Way, there are krogan, salarians, turians, humans, asari, who are all here, then it seems that there are others too?”

“Plenty of others.”

“Do you tend to keep to your own species, or…?”

“There are those of us who get along, then there are species like the batarians who generally prefer their own kind.”

“Do your people mate with other species?”

“Humans, you mean? Yeah, it’s been known. Asari probably most commonly, since they prefer to be with other species, they believe that it strengthens them genetically. But there are plenty of turian and quarian couples, too.”

“Not krogan or salarian?”

“I think a krogan would kill a human, they’re enormous, if you know what I mean. Salarians have the opposite issue - they don’t have a penis, and they don’t breed the same way we do. It’s not unknown for them to have relationships with humans, but they tend not to be sexual ones.”

“I see.”

“Evfra,” Sara begins, hesitantly. “Is there a reason you’re asking me all this?”

“You’re the one who invited me in to ask questions. I’m merely being curious.”

“Curious about humans?” she asks, taking a deep breath. “Or curious about me?”

Evfra looks down at his knees. “You are infuriating sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Sara laughs, though it sounds brittle to her ears. “I’m shocked.”

Evfra makes a low grumbling noise.

Sara smiles at him, regardless of his thunderous expression. “Anything else you want to ask? I won’t bite.”

“I don’t think so. I should be going.”

Sara nods. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to the docks.”

“No need. I’m sure I can find my own way off your ship, it’s hardly a frigate.”

“Evfra.” She lays a hand on his arm, trying to ignore the flinch. “I thought you’d had a good time, this evening.”

“I have. As I said, your company is pleasant. I just need to leave now.”

“Okay.”

She stands with him and walks with him over to the door. There is a short silence, heavy with tension. Sara can’t bear it for long.

“Evfra,” she says again, looking at her hands. “I had fun, too. I enjoyed seeing a different side to you. You know, a bit more relaxed. I… hope we can do it again some time, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” he says quietly. She looks up at him, and he is regarding her with those big soulful eyes. They remind her of the view from her cabin when they are in deep space. Infinite and beautiful.

“Goodnight, then,” she says, giving him a small and tremulous smile.

“Goodnight, Sara.”

It’s the first time he has ever used her first name, and she feels a shiver pass over her skin. Before she can stop herself, she’s on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his cheek - the one with the scar. It’s a brief kiss, a swift, dry contact, but it’s enough to make Evfra’s eyes pull even wider as he pauses in the doorway and stares at her.

Sara rocks back on her heels and feels her breath stop in her throat.

“What was that?” Evfra’s tone is biting.

Sara isn’t sure if this is a rhetorical question, or whether angara didn’t engage in kissing. “Uh, it was a kiss, humans do it as a greeting sometimes.”

“Just a greeting? It can mean something different for our people.”

“I… don’t know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to kiss you, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Evfra steps forward until he is in her personal space, his large body looming.

“I’m not upset,” he says, and brings his mouth to hers.

It isn’t like kissing a human man, she thinks, as their lips mesh together. The shape of his mouth is slightly different, his lips textured like rubber. Soft, pliable, but firm. She whimpers and closes her eyes, opening her mouth to allow him to deepen the kiss, his tongue beginning to make light swipes across hers as he explores her. His hands are on her waist, tugging her close, so that her body presses flush against his and she has to tilt her head back to keep on kissing him.

Everything in her head seems to turn to mush. She can’t think straight; all she can do is focus on the sensation of his mouth, the scent of him in her nostrils. He smells like oil and salt, like skin after a long day basking on a sunny beach. It feels like the kiss goes on for hours, yet when he breaks away it seems like only seconds have passed and she craves more almost immediately. She reaches for him, and he steps back.

“That was a mistake,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Sara. Goodnight.”

He doesn’t even look at her as he turns and walks out of her quarters. She’s too stunned to react at first, and by the time she gathers herself he is half way across the ship, and she isn’t about to make a fool of herself in front of her crew.

Sara is left churning in his wake. She doesn’t know whether to cry or take a cold shower. She settles for stripping down and lying between the bed sheets, idly touching herself as she imagines how the evening could have ended differently. She realises, with a jolt, just how much she had wanted him to stay. To keep kissing her.

She never thought that Evfra de Tershaav would look twice at her. He had never seemed to show any interest in anybody. Beautiful, yes, but unattainable. As if he was somehow on a different plane to everyone else. She hadn’t ever seen him have even the simplest conversation with someone that wasn’t in some way about the Resistance. Until tonight.

So now what.

As she gasps out a strangely unsatisfying orgasm into her pillow, she thinks that they will need to talk about this. She doesn’t want to - can only imagine the awkwardness, the stilted words - but Evfra has lit a fire in her that she knows she cannot easily quench. Perhaps she needs him to tell her, in his uniquely blunt manner, that there is no hope for anything more. Maybe that’s what has to happen, to get him out of her mind.

She falls asleep that night mentally rehearsing how the conversation might go, having no strong idea what the reality will be.

***

When Sara nervously steps into the Resistance headquarters the following day, he’s there as usual, engrossed in his work. He barely looks up at her, acknowledging her presence only with a slight tilt of his head before returning his attention to the datapads strewn across the desk in front of him. It turns her butterflies into a raging torrent.

“Evfra.” Her voice sounds reedy, and she mentally kicks herself. “Do you have a minute?”

“I’m busy,” he says, not looking up.

“Later, then? I think we need to talk.”

Evfra grunts. “Talk, then. If you must.”

“I…” She’s at a loss, staring at the top of the sapphire mantle that surrounds his face. “I’d rather it be a two way conversation, to be honest.”

He sighs and lifts his head. He looks tired, the skin around his eyes faded. “Tavetaan then, later. Same time as yesterday.”

Sara nods and leaves him to his task.

***

It’s a long day, waiting. She runs a few errands, listens to some of the elders talk about angaran laws and culture, makes a few purchases in the marketplace. She gets to the Tavetaan early and has a couple of unwise drinks with Liam and Drack, who seem to enjoy the angaran liqueur. That’s where Evfra finds her, his hand coming down on her shoulder from behind as she watches Liam’s eyes widen.

She picks up her drink and follows Evfra to the same table they sat at yesterday. They sit in silence, staring at each other, Sara draining her glass far too quickly, but not fast enough to hide the way her hands are shaking.

It’s Evfra who speaks first, his voice a low murmur.

“You wanted to talk. So talk.”

Sara swallows, wishes she had more alcohol. “After last night, I… uh, I thought we should talk about that.”

His face is impassive. “About what?”

Sara feels a spark of anger in her chest. “Don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I mean.”

Evfra makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It was nothing. I don’t see what we need to talk about.”

Her stomach sinks. “So that was nothing to you? You didn’t feel anything?”

“Why would I?”

“God.” She shakes her head, her mouth curling. “You asked me to join you for drinks, you started the conversation. You fucking kissed me, Evfra. You can’t pretend that was nothing.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve apologised.”

“That’s not good enough,” she says, trying to stop her voice from rising. “You can’t make it unhappen, and even if it was no big deal to you, it was to me. So you need to know that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sara. I don’t have time for distractions, as you well know.”

“Even when they’re as good as that kiss?”

It was far bolder than she would normally be, but Evfra was driving her to a hot fury with his monotone responses and his blank expression. It took such words as that to draw even a flicker of emotion from him. She counts the rapid blinks and the way he parts his lips to be a minor success.

She takes that as her cue to continue. “Come on, Evfra, you know it was good. Better than that. I don’t know about you, but it was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.”

His nostrils flare slightly and he scratches at his chin. “One of the best?”

Ah. There was the hook. Of course.

“One of them, sure. Top ten perhaps.”

His eyes narrow. “How many people have you kissed?” 

“If I say ten, would you be offended?”

Evfra snorts, but his lips quirk up at the edges.

“I would think that I needed to do better.”

“Well,” she says, a grin spreading over her face. “Maybe you do.”

He growls - actually growls - and rises to his feet. Sara frowns. “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking you back to my apartment,” he says, his voice low and firm. “I’m going to prove to you that I am better than top ten.”

Thoughts whirl through Sara’s head so quickly that she can barely piece them together, can hardly understand what is going on, how the evening can have shifted so quickly from distant and aloof to… well, this. To an angaran man prickling with energy, radiating the same passion that she’d felt all too briefly the evening before.

He was unpredictable, that was for sure. No wonder he made such a good tactician.

He strides through the alleyways of Aya, Sara trailing behind him, trying to keep up. By the time they arrive at his quarters, she’s breathless and jittery, feeling as if she is standing on the edge of a rather large drop with no jetpack.

His place is exactly as she would have imagined. Spare, sterile, simple. Whitewashed walls, a table with only one chair, a handful of plain cupboards, a mattress low to the floor. She barely has time to take in even these small details before he is upon her, his breath hot against her mouth as he presses her into an urgent kiss. Her back bumps against the wall as his body leans into hers, his tongue swiping against hers, his lips dry and warm. Her arms wrap around his back, her hands going underneath the soft fabric of his rofjinn, fingertips pressing into his thick, coarse armour. She makes low, whimpering sounds into his mouth as he ravishes her, her hips pushing forward in an unconscious attempt to grind against his body. Her veins are aflame with an itching need to touch him, to bond with him, to be so close to him that there isn’t an inch of space between their skin. She’s never been reduced to such a hot mess so quickly before; no human man has ever made her feel this way. Perhaps it’s the subtle buzz of bioelectrics which play over her body, translating to spikes of energy beneath her skin as if her blood was full of lightning. Or maybe it’s the man himself - his dark charisma, the way he holds himself, the way he has always seemed as if he was other, untouchable, unknowable. Whatever it is, she thinks, she cannot get enough of it.

Even Evfra is breathing harshly by the time he pulls away from her, taking a tiny step backwards as her knees sag and she rests against the wall, one hand against the brickwork to steady herself.

He stares at her, a challenge in the pull of his lips. “Well?”

“Huh?” Sara’s mind is cloudy with the scent of him, the taste of him.

“Tell me how good that was,” he says forcefully, his eyes focused on hers.

“Ah.” She smiles, understanding. She’d almost forgotten their conversation in the Tavetaan. “I’d say top three.”

Evfra’s eyes darken and he leans over her, his mouth hovering over hers. “Liar.”

She smirks at him. “If you say so.”

He kisses her with such force that she comes up on to tiptoes, his strong arms lifting her into his mouth as he pins her back against the wall. He is even more fervent, his lips melding against hers as if his life depends on this moment, on her breath mingling with his as they lose themselves in the meeting of skin and heat, the way his tongue touches hers, the fizzle of static jumping between them and surrounding her like an aura.

He kisses her for so long that she begins to lose all rational thought, her head throbbing with white light, her vision swimming. The air in her lungs must all be his, she thinks, as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him even deeper access to her mouth. He plunges, plunders, drawing one kiss into the next, barely stopping to breathe.

He kisses her with his whole body. His warm lips mesh and move, his rough-textured tongue strong and insistent. His thick hands curl around her waist, one thigh pressing against her centre as she wraps her legs around him and tugs him close. Her breasts crush against the hard knots of his chest, and her entire body feels over-sensitive, tingling in a fuzzy haze.

She never wants it to end, but when it does she stares at him through glassy eyes, her lips red and swollen, her muscles as weak as a new-born foal.

He grins at her, his eyes glistening.

“And now?” His voice is husky, cracking with something she hopes is desire.

“Mm.” Sara takes a deep breath, a long inhalation of air to fill her over-tight lungs and to steady her voice. “I suppose I could agree that might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Of course,” Evfra says, his lips pulling up into a wry smile “I knew you would have to admit to it eventually.”

“Might be, I said.” Sara narrows her eyes and grins at him as he pulls a face and makes a low annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “You’re so vain, Evfra.”

“Proud, not vain,” he says with another rumble of irritation.

“You know,” Sara says conversationally, “pride is considered to be one of the seven deadly sins back in our galaxy.”

“Hmph.” Evfra snorts and frowns. “What are the others?”

Sara thinks for a moment. “Greed. Gluttony. Wrath and lust. Envy and sloth.”

Evfra smirks and narrows his eyes at her. “I am pretty certain that you are guilty of at least one of those, Sara.”

“Well then,” she says with a small grin, “I guess we’re both sinners.”

He shifts towards her again, his arms making a cage around her as he leans against the wall. “Since we are already condemned, then, we may as well sin some more.”

She wasn’t going to argue. His kisses were already a drug to her, and she had gone for minutes without the touch of him against her skin, the taste of him in her mouth. This is like an out-of-body experience, she thinks, as the press of his lips reignites a spark low in her abdomen and starts another round of molten heat racing through her veins.

She has no idea how long they have been kissing for - it could be minutes or hours, time seems to mean nothing when his mouth is on hers - when she feels the touch of his palm running from the base of her neck down across her chest. As he brushes across her nipples, she lets out a whine into his mouth and feels his lips quirk into a smile.

“You like that,” he murmurs softly, before continuing his kisses. She manages a small nod, and he touches her breast again, his finger tracing around the soft flesh before pressing against her nipple. She shudders at his touch.

“You are an interesting shape,” he says again, barely breaking contact with her lips. “Soft. Fleshy. I would very much like to explore you.”

“Evfra,” she mumbles, feeling a dart of desire spear through her stomach and settle between her thighs in a sharp and pulsing heat. She almost laughs at the intensity of it, at the idea of feeling so aroused by being called fleshy. “Oh, please, yes.”

She’s barely spoken her affirmation before he’s swept her up in his arms as if she weighs nothing at all, carrying her across the room and depositing her in an ungainly heap on his fat mattress. It’s firm and well-stuffed, her weight barely making a dent in the surface. Sara idly wonders how many other women he has brought back here to this sparsely furnished room. She can’t help but wonder how she might compare to one of his own kind.

All those thoughts and worries are swept from her mind as Evfra bends over her, his thick fingers working at the edges of her shirt, sliding it up and over her body. She watches as his eyes widen, the shimmery nebulas of his gaze sweeping over her skin in a rapid flicker. He tilts his head to one side and plucks at a bra strap.

“What is this contraption for?”

Sara laughs. “It keeps my breasts in place, stops them bouncing around.”

“These are breasts.” Evfra hums and runs a hand across her cleavage above the fabric, bumping his fingers over the soft mounds. “What are they for?”

“Feeding babies, mostly,” Sara says. “Though men seem to like them, and they can be sensitive to being touched, which feels nice.”

“You seem to enjoy it when I touch them.”

“You can touch me anywhere you’d like to, Evfra.”

Evfra makes a low rumbling sound and presses a hand over the lace of her bra. “It’s scratchy.”

“Take it off, then.”

He looks panicked, his eyes flitting from side to side. “I’ve no idea how.”

Sara giggles and takes pity on him, sliding the straps down her arms before reaching behind herself to unclip the fastening. She watches Evfra as she does, watches as his tongue swipes a light trail over his lower lip.

“You are curious looking,” Evfra says quietly.

“Ah, all the honeyed compliments tonight.” Sara laughs and leans back against the mattress. “I am not worthy.”

Evfra leans over her and stares into her eyes. “You are. You are unique and beautiful. Delicate yet tough. Your skin is so soft, yet I can feel your strength beneath it. I am privileged to touch you like this.”

Sarcasm is lost on the angara, it seems. Sara blushes and presses her palm to his cheek. His skin is soft like suede, the ribbons of his scars tight, raised stripes. “Thank you. And I feel lucky to be here with you.”

“You are the first in a long while.”

“Then I am even luckier.”

Evfra kisses her again, then, his hands running down her sides in sweeping strokes. She murmurs sweet noises into his mouth, raising herself into his touch, encouraging him to explore her. His thick fingers on her breasts feel exquisite, rough and heavy, the pressure sending sparks of bioelectricity zipping across the surface of her skin, fine downy hairs prickling into straight lines like soldiers.

Sara tugs at his rofjinn. “Take this off.”

Evfra snorts. “You’re giving me orders now?”

“Seems that way.”

She pauses and holds his gaze, waiting for his reaction. He simply smirks and begins to undress.

Sara’s eyes sweep over Evfra’s body as he strips, following the thick corded lines of flesh which encircle his face in a wide ruff, tapering into points where a human collarbone would be before ending in solid knots at the top of his chest. Sinuous muscle branches off from his torso, curling along his broad arms. She finds him fascinating; her gaze dances over the mounds and hollows of his skin as it stretches and dips around his frame.

His hips are jutting, thighs beneath strong and sturdy. Her eyes stutter over the area in between - his arousal obvious, even in its difference to the human bodies she was used to. His cock is a deeper shade than the rest of his skin, a rich navy blue like the velvet dress her mother had made her when she had her naming ceremony as a child. Ridges rise along its length in uneven patterns, whorls and stripes of raised flesh which make her mouth go dry at the thought of how he would feel inside her. There are other contrasts, too; angara have no external testicles, and Evfra’s cock protrudes from a fine dark slit which would cover the flesh when not in its hardened state. There is no foreskin and the tip is conical rather than blunt. She’s relieved to see that it isn’t significantly larger than a human’s, and that for all they were separated by galaxies and years, there are enough similarities to make this familiar.

And yet, enough differences to make it breathtaking.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, her voice soft and breathy. She reaches out to touch him, but he knocks her hand away.

“Wait,” he says. “This is my time.”

He puts a hand against her shoulder and presses her back on to the mattress until she is lying on her back, staring up at him as he hovers over her, a predatory look in his eyes.

Evfra hooks his blunt fingertips into the waistband of her trousers and tugs them down in a rush, taking her underwear with them and leaving her bare, presented on the mattress like a sculpture. His mouth opens as if to say something, but instead he simply smiles and leans forward to kiss her neck.

His mouth travels the length of her body. His breath is warm on her skin, like a summer breeze. He kisses her shoulder, tracing the shape of her collarbone with his tongue as he moves down towards her breasts. He kisses them, too - one, then the other, in soft circles around the yielding flesh, before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. Sara whimpers and wriggles beneath him, watching his every movement in a state of arousal and disbelief. When he begins to place little kisses in a row down the curve of her stomach, she makes a noise which sounds like broken laughter.

“What are you…”

Evfra glances up at her. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Ahh… but how…”

It seems that she can’t finish her sentences any more. Evfra chuckles, a low and rumbling sound.

“I’ve done some reading. You will have to let me know how I do. If you can manage to speak properly.”

Any words she was going to give him in response die in her throat as he presses his mouth between her thighs, the touch of his lips like a branding iron against her sensitive clit. Her body rises from the mattress and she shrieks, a quick burst of sound, before collapsing back in a boneless heap, gasping and breathless as he begins to stroke her with his tongue in long, languid stripes.

Everything about it feels different. Evfra’s tongue is grooved, giving it a rough edge, and he moves it over her with a firmness that she hadn’t felt from other men. Sara sighs as she lets the sensations slide over her, rapidly building to a place where she feels tension tighten low in her belly, the little jolts of electricity joining with the hum of Evfra’s own bioelectrics to push her towards her peak. When he presses at her clit with the edge of his tongue, heat radiates through her body and she feels the wave of her climax wash over her as she writhes and whimpers, only able to say the first syllable of his name.

Evfra moves himself up her body and runs his fingers through her tangled mop of hair, kissing her again so that she can taste herself on his mouth. She pulls back, inhales a shuddering lungful of air, touches shaky fingers to the side of his head.

“I want you to fuck me, Evfra.”

And oh God, does she. She has never wanted anyone as much as she wants him now, her whole body singing for him, an ache in the core of her, needing to be filled.

He smirks, his lip curling, and thrusts into her without warning or hesitation. She cries out and instinctively wraps her legs around him, her toes curling as her body adjusts to the feeling of being invaded. He surrounds her, his salt-prickled scent, his endless eyes. She knows she is lost.

Evfra is forceful, bruising. His cock drags and scrapes against her walls, the ridges of him providing a friction she’s never felt before. His body is rough and hard against hers, the pace he sets is relentless. She’s gasping in loud, sobbing breaths as her fingers scrabble over the landscape of his back, her entire body tingling and fizzing, as if he was in every part of her. Filling her, claiming her, overwhelming her with his energy and focus. His gaze on her face the whole time.

Sara watches the expressions flit over his features. The way his eyes widen when she clenches around him, the way his lips part. Nostrils flaring, a crease between his eyes as he concentrates. He’s serious and joyful all at once, thrilling in the way she feels when she flutters her muscles, slipping into a lustful intensity as he increases the speed of his thrusts in response.

He hooks her leg over his shoulder, turning to press a kiss against her calf. The unexpected tenderness nearly breaks her, and she might have cried if he hadn’t then driven his hips forward in a powerful thrust, raking the raised contours of his cock over just the right spot to send her screaming over the edge for the second time. Evfra is not far behind, his hands on her waist, pulling her body into his as he pounds out the final throes of his own orgasm. He goes still, his eyes fluttering, his body pulsing inside her in a glorious, quivering crescendo.

Slowly, Evfra unravels himself and collapses to the mattress beside her with a long sigh. They lie in silence for several minutes, breathing deeply, Sara trying to reorganise her thoughts back into a semblance of coherence. She feels as though she has shattered into tiny pieces which are being put back in the wrong order. Everything has shifted, and she doesn’t quite know what will happen now.

It’s Evfra who speaks first. His voice is stretched thin, almost as if he’s winded.

“It’s been years since I’ve brought a woman here. I’d almost forgotten what it was like.”

There’s a quality in his voice which sounds so much like wonder that Sara feels her chest grow tight. She reaches over and touches his hand, and he turns his palm to grip her fingers.

He gives her a half-smile, one side of his lips curving up in a gentle twist. “I hope that it felt good for you, Sara, despite that.”

Sara swallows. The look on his face is vulnerable suddenly, all of the arrogant veneer stripped away. She squeezes his hand.

“You were incredible, Evfra. I’ve never felt that way before.”

She expects him to put the mask back on, to crow and brag, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives her another soft smile and flicks his eyes away from hers, blinking rapidly.

“Good.” He stares up at the ceiling, his throat working as he swallows air.

Sara watches him quietly. Eventually she ventures a question. “How did it feel for you, Evfra?”

His nostrils flare. “It’s hard to describe it. You humans feel different to angara. I thought it wouldn’t be the same, as you don’t have bioelectricity. But it was better.”

“Better?”

“Angaran women aren’t soft like you are, inside. You feel like the warmed-through pulp of a javaan fruit, and yet you drew me in so tightly. I didn’t know humans had muscles there. I was surprised.”

“A good surprise, I hope?”

Evfra’s eyes flutter and he lets out a low groan. “Yes.”

Sara smiles, her heart thumping against her ribs. “You felt different to human men, too.”

“How?”

“The marks you have, the ridges. Humans don’t have those. They felt amazing when you were moving in me.”

“Hm.” Evfra looks thoughtful. “It seems to have worked out rather well, then, doesn’t it.”

“Does that mean we can do it again?” Sara looks hopeful.

Evfra snorts. “Oh, I’ve only just got started.”

Sara feels something coil and twist low in her stomach, and she swallows hard. “That’s good, because so have I.”

They stare at each other. Sara wonders what’s going on, wonders if Evfra is asking himself the same questions she is. Perhaps he is, because he pulls his head back and looks at the wall instead, his throat working as he swallows down air.

She frowns and scratches at her chin. “Should I go?”

“Perhaps it would be best, for now.” Evfra returns his gaze to hers, a smile flitting over his face. “I have much to think about.”

“It seems we both have.” Sara begins to tug on her clothing. Her thighs ache, and her skin is slick and sticky, but she ignores the discomfort and dresses. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You know where I’ll be.” Evfra’s words are sharp, but his expression is softer than she’s ever seen it. It strikes her that he seems relaxed, for the first time since she’s met him. He reaches out and strokes her hair as she shrugs into her jacket.

“I’ll call by, then.” She smiles up at him, and lifts her hand to squeeze his fingers. He stands up to escort her to the door.

“I look forward to it.” Evfra meets her eyes with an open gaze. She leans up and presses a quick kiss to his lips, and he makes a contented murmuring sound.

“As will I,” she says, and leaves him standing in the doorway watching her retreat down the alleyway, away from his home. She has no doubt that she will return.


End file.
